On that starry night
by Petra Igraine
Summary: Positano, September 1999. A starry night, a wounded agent, and a first time. Jibbs.


A/N: Since it's Valentine's day, I thought it was as good a time as any to post some Jibbs fluff :) Reviews, as always, are very welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

"_A chaos of mind and body __–__ a time for weeping at sunsets and at the glamour of moonlight __–__ a confusion and profusion of beliefs and hopes in God, in Truth, in Love, and in Eternity __–__ an ability to be transported by the beauty of physical objects __–__ a heart to ache or swell __–__ a joy so joyful and a sorrow so sorrowful that oceans could lie between them.__"__ – T.H. White_

**Positano, Italy. September, 1999.**

Even through the mound of blankets and cushions, Jenny could feel the heat radiating from the terracotta tiles. They were sprawled out on the roof terrace of their rented apartment, trying to escape some of the heat bestowed on the town all day by the early September sun. Both lay in silence, deep in their own memories.

Gazing up at the stars, Gibbs' mind couldn't help but wander to another redhead that had gazed at the very same constellations he was seeing now. She had made him promise that whenever he went away, he was to look at the stars each night and remember that she was looking at the exact same thing.

It was a promise he had kept.

His hand wandered down to the hipflask concealed at his waist. Ever since his unfortunate encounter with a gunman the week before he had taken to carrying it everywhere, occasionally taking a sip of its contents for medicinal purposes. Running a finger over the engraved message, he could still feel the bullet impaled in the flask's smooth metal; the bullet that had been destined for his heart. His girls had saved his life while he had been negligent with theirs. The angry tears welled behind his eyes. He didn't deserve to be lying here in the arms of a woman, dreaming of a future while they had none.

Unable to look at the stars anymore, he turned to gaze at the face of the redhead beside him; the woman that should have been Shannon, but wasn't. Her face, too, was grave, her mind elsewhere. He watched as her eyes blinked slowly, green orbs unseeing.

Careful not to aggravate his still fresh bullet wound, he shuffled closer and wormed his arms around her.

Startled from her philosophical thoughts, Jenny grunted in annoyance as he forced her from her comfortable position. With exaggerated effort, she arranged herself atop his chest and was slightly startled by the painful secrets she saw lurking behind his blue irises.

"Everything okay?" Her voice was unusually quiet. He took a minute to decide before nodding his head in the positive. She didn't need to be burdened by his past. Biting back the urge to push the matter, she lifted a hand to his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"You're just upset that the doctor told you to keep your hands off me," she joked, wanting to see that handsome smile back on his face.

"What he _said_ was not to exert myself."

"And that makes a world of difference," she retorted sarcastically.

"Means I can do this without breaking the rules." He smirked as he ran his hand down over her ass.

"I would _hate_ to have to ask you to stop."

"Lucky Decker's Italian is better than yours then."

She slapped his arm in revenge.

"I'll have you know that _I_ was the one with enough sense to call the ambulance while you were painting the floor red."

"Only managed it because the operator spoke a little French."

She glared back grumpily. She had hoped he'd been a little too preoccupied to pay any attention to the awkward conversation she'd had with the Italian on the other end of the line. It was hard communicating in a foreign language when she couldn't use her finely honed gift at charades.

"I wonder if they got your blood out of the carpet yet..." she pondered, steering the conversation away from her failure.

"Heard they left Wallis in charge."

Jenny bit her lip. She shouldn't laugh at the man's misfortune, even if he wasn't her favourite person in the world. A compromised safe house was never a picnic to sort out. Especially when you had to conjure up a reason for the blood smeared over every surface within reach of the front door.

"I'm glad he's not cramping our style anymore," she admitted. Jethro merely kissed the top of her head in silent reply.

From her now elevated position on Gibbs' chest, Jenny could see the golden glow of the city's lights over the low wall lining their little terrace. Positano at night was possibly one of the most charming landscapes she had ever seen. Inspired by the beauty before her, she turned to face her lover.

"Do you think we could stay like this forever?"

"It'd get a bit chilly over winter, don't 'cha think?"

"That's not what I meant," she said, frowning, knowing full well that her question hadn't been misunderstood. Gibbs shifted a hand behind his head as he lay there looking up at her, debating over his answer. Experience taught him that 'happy ever after' only existed in fairytales. But lying there, looking into deep pools of emerald, her longing for the perfect future was infectious. Hope took a firm grasp on his heart and he let himself dream.

"It would be very nice," he admitted.

"Very _nice_?" she asked incredulously. "Of all the words in the English language, you choose _nice_?"

"What would you call it then?" Gibbs shifted his free hand to her back, gently running a finger along her spine.

"You could've said wonderful, fabulous, amazing, incredible, fantastic, great..."

"You left out perfect," he teased, smiling so that his face looked years younger. Jenny couldn't resist kissing his boyish grin.

"Lucky you thought of it then."

"Lucky? I just know more words than you do," he boasted. Jenny couldn't help but laugh. Gibbs poked her in retaliation.

"Hey!" she protested, swatting away his hand. Gibbs' face tensed as her sudden wriggling pushed against his wound.

"Serves you right," Jenny accused as she lay down at his side, a hand gently caressing his chest. Unhappy with this new position but unable to do much about it in his weakened state, Gibbs contented himself with the fact that he could still run a hand up and down her side, occasionally taking the risk of slipping his fingers under her shirt to feel her heated skin.

He watched her silently as she began to doze off in the cooling night air. Nudging her gently, he twisted his torso a little to see her better.

"Jen," he whispered. Her sleepy hum told him she was listening.

"Love you."

Her body tensed momentarily. She had uttered those words many a time in the weeks they'd been together, but never once had they left _his_ lips. Of course, she'd known all along that he felt the same, but hearing it said aloud was so much better. Her happiness radiated from her, and in that moment Leroy Jethro Gibbs knew he'd done something right. She snuggled closer into his side, her head tucking itself under his chin.

"I love you too."


End file.
